


Just Don't [Please Don't Say Goodbye]

by HansoldMySoul



Series: Can you spell Angst? [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Gore, I don't really know how to describe it, I'm Sorry, It's not so much sad as--, M/M, Mental Instability, Minor Character Death, Please don't read if these things affect you, Psychological, implied suicide, major angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 10:40:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7931533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HansoldMySoul/pseuds/HansoldMySoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And I sincerely pray, listen to that song it makes me cry again. Please don't say goodbye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Don't [Please Don't Say Goodbye]

**Author's Note:**

> First of all! If any of the following themes affect you then please read at your own risk! : Implied suicide, Abusive relationships, Psychological trauma.
> 
> This fic is very messy and I really wasn't sure about posting it so I may end up taking it down yet but please enjoy(?)
> 
> Heavily inspired by the lyrics of SunnyHill's "Pray". It's an extremely emotional song but an amazing listen so I suggest you check it out! You definitely won't be disappointed.

The bleach white tiles are cold against his bare legs but the spiderweb of visible blue veins only adds to the picturesque vision of red and purple that already decorates the expanse of skin in hues off sunrise and sunset. It's pretty but only in the way that something draws ones eyes out of absolute morbid fascination and makes its difficult to look away despite the fact that you don't want to be caught staring.

The room is barely recognisable, washed out in pale eggshell and chipped sunshine yellow that looks more than out of place in the harsh fluorescent lighting. His cheeks are wet though he isn't sure whether the culprit is his own overflowing emotions or the broken spray of the showerhead that's become the only constant in the aftermath of an explosion with devastating consequences. In the reflection of shattered mirror shards and the thin layer of water that covers the floor he sees a broken future and a promise of tomorrow that washes away with the pinkish tinge that imbues the watery film. The delicate balance in which his world existed was tilted way to one side and hewas seconds away from slipping off the edge. He doesn't put up a fight because endless oblivion must surely be better than what life has to offer now.

Mocking, an apology spelt out in crimson seeps into the mottled cracks in the tile and no matter how much he wishes he could wave it off like every other time, this apology is the real thing and it's presence threatens to overwhelm every one of his senses. Of all the times he's wished for the words to be taken back, wished for hands to pull away and not leave dark imprints on his pale skin now is different. Now there's no going back but he wants to rewind time to when things were horrible but there was still a future to speak of.

The shards of mirror, broken into so many pieces that there's no hope of repairing it, reflects a distorted image of destruction, hopelessness and death.

The room reaks of death.

He doesn't move, afraid that doing more than shying away from the ever encroaching blood will make it all real. Maybe, if he sits still enough it will all go away and everything will be back to normal.

So he sits. And he waits.

The scene before him doesn't change, doesn't suddenly morph into an everyday setup of trying and failing to be perfect but never getting it quite right. Instead, reality sets in when he hears sirens and the panic that shoots through him provides him with enough adrenaline to pull himself to his feet and stumble out of the room, colliding heavily with the chipped doorframe as he leans too much weight onto his left side, favouring it while trying not to thing about the long, angry gash that runs from his knee to his ankle and continues to seep blood even after the time that's passed.

Deep down, he knows that he won't get far but he runs anyway because he knows who will have just arrived and he doesn't think he can face that person, doesn't think he can handle being told "I told you so" when he isn't ready to admit fault yet.

There's a heavy banging against the front door and he freezes in place, the jarring sound sending shockwaves through his already fragile mentality. He doesn't answer it because the person on the other side knows where the spare key is and they'll let themselves in soon regardless of whether he takes action or not.

He's already said goodbye, that's probably why they're here, hoping that they didn't act too late because the letter was sent hours ago.

The door bursts open then, being thrown against the opposing wall with such force that the house shakes on it's flimsy foundations. From his spot by the dining room, Sicheng watches Jaehyun disregard the others he brought with him in favour of runing towards the bathroom. It's clinically bright and there's so much blood that he doesn't blame Jaehyun for mistaking the sight as he enters the tiny room and the hall fills with a silent chant of 'No, no, no'.

Everyone is shouting and talking in raised voices in an effort to be heard and Sicheng hears the moment that they identify the body, hears the cry of relief that Jaehyun sobs at hearing the news. He doesn't run now, partly because it hurts too much and partly because he's hit a dead end and all he can do now is to wait for everyone to catch up with him.

It only takes a few seconds for a frantic Jaehyun to find him, pulling him into his arms and cradling him like you would a child. Sicheng is numb, unable to feel the comforting embrace because his heart is encased in a layer of ice but he registers that Jaehyun is crying, alternating between murmers of Sicheng's own name and feeble reaasurances of 'It's okay, you're alright' that seem more for himself than anyone else.

He doesn't realise that he's crying until Jaehyun finally puts enough space between them to look him in the eye and tenderly brings his hand up to whipe the swollen skin under his eyes where tears continue to fall.

"It's alright," he mutters again, voice less frantic but eyes still searching for an answer that Sicheng will never give.

"It's alright," Sicheng echoes but it's empty and dull because nothing will ever be alright again but Jaehyun will only worry more until he shows positive emotion.

Nothing can ever be okay again because Sicheng has just watched his life drain away with the crimson droplets of everything that he's ever considered himself to love.

Nothing can ever be okay again because Sicheng's world had shattered when the gun went off, ending something painful only to replace it with something like a gaping hole of nothingness.

Jaehyun sees right passed the broken assurance but he doesn't say anything because Sicheng is still here and that's an infinitely better outcome than he'd dared to hope for when he read Sicheng's letter an hour ago.

Sicheng is still here which means his world is still intact and he hopes that he can mend Sicheng's with enough time.

Everything is a mess but it could be worse and for that he'll be infinitely grateful.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!~
> 
> Find me on Twitter @HansoldMS_Twt


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